


A Beautiful and Terrible Thing

by thecat_13145



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Incest, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:18:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecat_13145/pseuds/thecat_13145
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian finds out the truth about Don's past</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hijack](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/70623) by darkkwater. 
  * Inspired by [A Long, Dark Waiting](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/70626) by darkkwater. 



> This is Inspired by darkkwater's series. She is a fantastic writer and is one of the few Don/Charlie writers I can read because it's so screwed up. 
> 
> This is set in a AU universe, and Characters may be slightly OOC. If they are, I hope people will allow for an unusual and stressful situation.

Ian Edgerton was never entirely sure if he decided to seduce Don Eppes because he was attracted to the other man or because he knew it would be a challenge.

The head of the FBI unit on Sex Crimes was only agent Ian knew, other than himself, who’d happily work through Thanksgiving and Christmas, who actually seemed to enjoy that better than taking a break. During the two years that Ian had being observing him, there had being no boyfriend or no girlfriend, not even any one night stands. Kim Hall, the CIA forgery expert, had tried everything short of turning up in Don’s room naked (and Ian wasn’t entirely convinced she hadn’t considered that), but with no luck.

Don simply seemed to live for his team and his work, getting the bad guys off the streets. At the same time, Ian could say with a degree of certainty that he wasn’t close to any of his team. He was a good boss, but was slightly detached.

There was no doubt he was passionate about his work, and Ian knew how attractive that drive, that passion could be when it was focused on you.

He hadn‘t made it easy or obvious, just careful flirting, carefully directing Don without him knowing it, like a chase, until they were here. A motel in Phoenix that unfortunately only had the one double room spare. At least, that was what he would claim if there were any repercussions.

But the glint in Don’s eyes, as the door closed, suggested that he was well aware of what was going on, and didn’t mind.

Ian wasn’t going to make things easy for him. He kept it casual, while they both roughly unpacked, subtle invasions of personal space and touches that could just be friendly. Plausible deniability was the key.

He offered Don the first shower, but Don just shook his head, stating that Ian had crawled through more grime that day than he had. Ian wasn’t sure that he agreed, he’d watched Don interviewing the perp, but he didn’t argue.

Anticipation heightens pleasure after all.

He didn’t skimp on the shower, enjoying the luxury of the hot water, before wrapping a towel around his waist and wandering out.

Don was sitting on the bed, reading though a report; pen clenched between his teeth as he marks things on the paper.

For a moment, Ian thought he’d badly misread the situation.

Then Don’s tongue swirls around the pen and he looks up catching Ian’s eye.

Ian moved to sit down on the bed.

“Water’s good.” He offered. 

“Right.”

“You want to be careful with that.” He smiled. “You’ll get ink poisoning”

“Really?”

He watched as Don carefully removed the pen from his mouth, sliding the cap on.

“That better?”

The dark eyes were challenging him. He grinned.

“A little.”

They’re at an impasse, Ian recognised that and knew that if they want this to get anywhere beyond a tension in the room, then he has to make the move.

He reached up, capturing the head and pulling Don closer. A kiss, that would be all that was need to get this moving.

“Much better.” He whispered, moving backwards slightly. The rational agent part of his brain was asking why and how come he could taste beer on Don’s breath. The rest was waiting to see how Don would react.

In hunting there was a moment, even with a willing prey, when you realise you’re cornered, that there’s no way out. A moment of panic. Its pure instinct, Ian knows that.

It’s also missing from Don. The other agent rushes forward, like a starving man on a buffet, almost choking Ian with his tongue. 

The kiss is hot, heavy and vaguely inexperienced. It’s more like a colleague kid’s kiss, too hard, too intense, than a man of thirty’s, even one who seems almost dedicated to celibacy.

Ian worked, carefully easing the kiss, easing Don backwards, letting his hands explore. Don’s hands shoot backward automatically to support himself, but there’s no effort to touch Ian, to explore the other man’s body. Ian briefly wondered if he was maybe coming on to strong, pushing too hard for Don, but any effort he made to ease things up, slow them down, Don seemed to counteract by pushing even harder.

Internally he shrugged and let his hands wander down to Don’s belt buckle. His hands barely had touched it when there was a reaction.

Don froze under him for a moment, then

“NO!” The yell seemed to shake the room as Don shoved Ian back, knocking him off the bed. 

Ian quickly got to his feet, ready to grab his clothes and make a run to the truck. Ready to apologise or to defend himself.

But then he noticed something. 

Don seemed to have shrunk, almost curling in on himself, tension bursting from every muscle of the hunched figure and something else. Fear.

He reminded Ian of the kids he’s seem on busts with Don’s team, and he found himself reacting almost exactly as he would do to one of those kids.

Approaching carefully, sitting back down on the bed, far enough away for Don not to feel threated, but near enough to know he’s there.

“Don?” The other agent didn’t react. “Did someone…” He swallowed, suddenly uncertain of the words. “Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”

Don gave a sobbing snort. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

The voice sounded so tired, so defeated.

Ian shuffled a little closer. 

“Try me, Eppes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. It's a slightly weird chapter, but I hope people approve.

Dimly, Ian could remember his first handler in the FBI telling him that the first day he got through without hearing or seeing something that made him feel sick should be his last day with the bureau. That if you were so cynical that the stuff people could do to each other didn’t have any power to shock you, to make you feel ill…then you were no use to anyone. 

He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, fighting to control his stomach. Today would definitely not be his last day in the bureau.

“Woah.”

Don gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah.”

The word was so resigned, so exhausted that Ian wasn’t sure whether to withdraw more from Don or pull him towards him. 

Don continued. “You want fuck a rapist and a paedophile!” he spat the words out, with so much self-hatred and bitterness in his voice, that Ian wasn’t able to help himself.

“No.” He said firmly. 

“No?” Don looked confused and almost amused by the outcry. “You didn’t want to fuck me? Could have fooled me Edgerton!”

“You’re not paedophile.” Ian said firmly. At Don’s raised eyebrow, he elaborated. “I've seen guys who chase those…because they’re afraid, because they know one day that they’ll probably do something really bad and I’ve seen guys who chase because they don’t want anyone to go through what they’ve gone through.” He stared into Don’s eyes firmly. “You’re in the second category.”

It was true. Now that the facts were in his hand, things he’d seen, he’d observed made more sense. Don losing his temper with an agent when they couldn’t’ find the evidence. Don tension in the room when they were negotiating for information. Don working all hours because it meant he didn’t have to go home, to be alone with the demons in his head. 

He also doubted that Don was a rapist, at least in the most literal interpretation of the word. Ian had no doubt that Don had gone there with the intention of raping his brother, of getting revenge for his own rape, but he wasn’t sure that the actual act had happened. He didn’t doubt in Don’s mind, he was a rapist, but Ian had being though enough to know that consent and perceptions of it were tricky and could differ between victim and perpetrator. 

He added as an afterthought.

“Did you ever tell anyone else about this?” He added quickly. “I believe you, but…”

“Need to know if there’s any other witnesses.” Don snorted. “My Mom. When she got sick, Charlie retreated into the math and I was there, but…” He shook his head. “I was never enough you know?”

Ian nodded.

“And one day it just burst out. I had to tell her the truth about her precious Charlie.” He shook his head. “She didn’t believe me. Said that she knew Charlie and I had our issues, but she never thought I’d make up a story like that.” He stared at his hands as he added. “She died that night. The last conversation I had with my mom, she was calling me a liar.” 

Ian didn’t mention that such statements were almost the normal reaction to accusation of that sort. Don knew that, rationally. Emotionally it was a whole different story.

“Coop knows.” Don said, his voice breaking through Ian’s thoughts. “Or rather, he knows something happened, between us.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I couldn’t tell him the whole story.”

Ian nodded softly. He suspected that if he asked, he’d find a fairly standard pattern. Late teens to early twenties spent sleeping with anything with a pulse, male or female, and probably a fair amount of alcohol involved. Possibly some other stuff as well, but Ian thinks Don is probably too much of a control freak to go down that route. 

“What are you going to do?” Don sounded almost relaxed. Like he knew the answer. 

And Ian knew what legally he was supposed to do. Report this back to the bureau, as a historical accusation of sexual abuse of a child. 

But the issue was that while Don was under age, Charlie was 5 years younger than him. Ian was fairly certain that Don wouldn’t be prosecuted for statutory rape, but he was also pretty sure that it would count against him in any case. People struggled with the idea that rapists could be physically smaller and weaker than their victims.

And there was Don’s own behaviour nearly 10 years ago. Ian could recognise a perpetrator getting back inside their victim’s head, taking control even when victim thought that they were in control of the situation. But he knew that Don didn’t see it that way. And if Don didn’t, then getting anyone else to would be impossible.

And there was another issue at play here. Ian didn’t work sex crimes, but he had met enough agents who did to know one thing. Those involved rarely stopped willingly. 

He risked a glance back at Don and made up his mind. “Give me your gun. Back up piece too.”

Don unstrapped the weapons, handing them over almost eagerly. 

“I told you the water’s good.” Ian continued, heading over to the hotel safe. “You go have a shower while I get dressed.” He held up his hand before Don could speak, carefully placing both weapons in, along with his own. There was still the rifle, but that was in the bag, and he didn’t think Don would be able to get it and assemble it without waking him up. “I get it if you don’t want me in the bed, I’ve got a sleeping bag in the truck and I’ve slept in worse places than the floor here.” He met Don’s eyes seriously. “But I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

Don’s face was a picture of confusion. Like he couldn’t understand it and maybe he honestly couldn’t. Maybe he thought Ian either didn’t believe him or was going to ignore it, to bury it, like everyone before him.

“I need some time to think.” He said softly. “I believe you, but I’ve got to decide what the right course of action is.”

Don continued to stare at him like he’s mad. Ian decided to throw him a life raft.

“It’s after midnight there,” he said, not glancing at the clock, hoping it would be true. “Just get the answering service and then some panicked agent calling back at 3 in the morning.” He shrugged. “Better to wait till tomorrow and get someone fresh.”

Don nodded slowly.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” He said, backing towards the shower. “There’s more than enough room on the bed.”

Ian smiled and was proud that he managed to keep the smile on his face until the door closed, and he heard the water running.

Quickly, he grabbed a t-shirt and sweatpants from his bag and pulled them on before sinking on the bed. 

What was he going to do? He had to report this, but most of the agents he’d trust with something like this were on Don’s team. This meant they would be emotionally involved in the case and any evidence they gathered would be worthless in court.

But he couldn’t just leave it.

Then suddenly a thought occurred to him. In fact, it was so obvious; he didn’t know why it hadn’t come to him sooner.

Quickly, he dug his phone from where he’d left it and flicked through his contacts till he found the number. A personal mobile number, not a bureau one.

“Hey it’s me.” He said, running his hands though his hair and keeping one eye on the bathroom door.

“I need a favour.”


End file.
